


Practice with the Enemy

by MaRuX



Category: Kick Buttowski
Genre: Character Study, Dancing, Dancing With The Enemy episode, F/M, Gen, hinted pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaRuX/pseuds/MaRuX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had to work with each other, but it's way harder than it looks. Unfortunately for them, it takes two to dance. And it takes practice to perfect. Oneshot, slight Kick/Kendall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice with the Enemy

They were both squeamish at the idea. Standing next to each other was bad enough, but actually _touching_ each other, working together, having to _rely_ on one another?

The one thing they truly had in common (their _pride_ ) wouldn't let them try anything else but strive to do their very best, despite their well-rehearsed revulsion. And despite their many differences and initial disapproval of each other's mere presence, they somehow came up in the end with an idea just ridiculously original enough to work.

_Awesome meets elegant._

Despite Kick's seemingly unflappable attitude, the idea, once it settled in, definitely got him out of his comfort zone. On the inside, the idea of _this move_ and _hold here_ and _don't let me fall, you moron!_ made his blood boil and rush to his head, making him worryingly dazed and leaning slightly on the edge of panic (which was worrisome all by itself). But he used all of his willpower and self-restraint not to show it on the outside. He was more straight-faced and narrow-eyed than ever, chin held high, focused and working so hard and seriously; Kendall never thought she'd ever see him this dedicated towards anything, and then she realized how foolish and shallow that thought was, as if constantly doing death-defying stunts was nothing remarkable at all.

Sometimes they would realize that a dance move they had unanimously agreed upon was way harder than they had visualized. It was not -physically speaking- impossible. Oh no, for both of them them, that was _easy_. The hard part was letting each other near enough to be able to do it.

It was strange, it was awkward and _scary_.

Kendall already knew that Kick was really fast when he wanted to be; but she never took the time to think of _how fast_. Maybe it was just her exaggerating due to the implications of feeling it on her own skin during the rush of physical exertion, but damn _he was faaaast!_

\- "Aggh!" she gasped as she was caught just in the nick of time. "Be careful when you grab me!" she ignored the relief blooming in her chest as adjusted herself in his surprisingly strong grip, with a big frustrated frown on her face. In an unconscious, desperate attempt at self-preservation, the implications of her statement ( _he_ was _touching_ her) were totally lost on her right now.

\- "Well _excuse me_ for trying to not let you fall flat on your face, little miss ballerina!" this close, his voice had a tingly edge of a rumble.

While in the process of holding her, Kick had a small fleeting thought that she felt a bit less like she looked, less bony and more soft, and warm, smelling of something light and like vanilla, with silken hair close to his face, but her limbs were still too stiff and her closed off, rigid posture close to tipping him over.

\- "You could've twisted my leg!" And he could've, his timing had been that close to disastrous; his strong grip would've caught onto her the wrong way and sent both of them off balance and _crashing not so spectacularly_ to the floor.

He came up with the most insane ideas, adding these wicked jumps and flips and whirlpools of motion into their routine. With him, her elegance was turning into something she never thought possible, being slowly polished into what resembled a finely sharpened battle axe ( _hmm, that's an idea…_ ). She felt like a butterfly, knocking down mountains with the fluttering of wings.

\- "Okay, now you throw me."

\- " _What?_ "

He was the one with the idea, using his small frame to an advantage others couldn't have. Kendall, despite all her confidence, almost lost it at the mere idea. But, after a few tries -in which he'd been surprisingly tight-lipped and compliant- Kendall was able to release her grip on his gloved hands and make him soar. He was comfortable enough with the idea of free-falling and the occasional injury, but the warm, slightly larger, long-fingered hands he was holding onto and the knowledge that it was _Kendall_ were what occasionally made him lose focus.

Kick was irked that he had to _always_ keep his eyes on her. Watching her every movement, waiting for his cue, he had to be aware of every flutter of her skirt and graceful, tiny tiptoes across the floor. It was all so _girly_ and quite silly if there wasn't for that something that she had to make it look, admittedly- well… more than alright. Besides his awesome ideas for the routine, that is. (Which, after overcoming the initial disagreements, Kendall had listened to and performed with the air of a world-renowned diva.)

She always brought up the smallest of things about their dance of a questionable origin, something which he had initially mocked in his head (he wasn't that stupid to jeopardize his own chance of getting a decent grade, thank you very much…). She came up at the beginning of their rehearsal with the idea of placing cameras in as many places as possible, enabling them to see their own performance from every angle. She was as much of a perfectionist as him and they were both so very determined to do their best, so driven by their common fear: failure; he didn't object to any of this, because once he'd given it some thought, what she was doing made perfect sense to him.

So he didn't object to _head towards me this time_ or _hands a bit higher_. His grip became steadier, more familiar with the dips in her middle, the hollow of her back, the stretch of her legs and the entire length of her body. He could twist her like a silk ribbon and damn she was so flexible, like she could easily bend every bone in her body.

At some point they became so very focused -as the deadline was fast approaching- that they forgot to be embarrassed anymore. Their movements towards each other were more self-assured, more trusting towards the other's capabilities, more yearning to live up to the other's trust and get the job done. They started to do new things on the spur of the moment, using whatever they had around them, right in the middle of their performance, wordlessly reacting to each other's body language. They unconsciously understood each other, knew when the other had something in mind and in no time figured out what to do as well. If the other was in a jam, the other leaped into action, holding the other tightly.

It was beautiful in its own way, vicious in the preteens' unwavering determination, simple in its action-reaction towards one another, like there was nothing else that mattered besides them; sometimes it looked like they were trying to pummel each other to the ground and other times like one was on the edge of falling apart and the other the only thing keeping them from doing so. They were so intent in holding the other without a second thought; it would've made them question their sanity had they been aware of themselves. For the first time, they could look at each other in the eye without hesitation and no need to say anything to each other. And they didn't even realize it; it was _team work_ and _performance_ at its finest.

The choreography they eventually came up with was quite simple, with only a few moves chosen from the great expanse of ideas they had tried the entire afternoon. It wasn't even a true, proper choreography per say. It was all seemingly quite simple but it took them a long, excruciatingly painful –especially mental- process to get there. They both decided to let as much room for improvisations as possible during the competition, confident enough in their adaptability as a team. Yes, right now they were _a team_.

Only once they both decided that they had done their best in preparing and all they could do now was hope for it all to work out, Kendall went back home, being offered a ride home by Mr. Buttowski. As soon as she left, Kick felt his posture shift and he realized just how much he had strained himself in half a day. It wasn't that surprising really, it happened while working on his stunts (but rarely this much in so little time); what surprised him was that his body now felt oddly off-balance, like there was something he was _supposed to do_ but wasn't. He was horrified at the realization and so very aware of the fact that he unconsciously became _that comfortable_ with holding Kendall Perkins in his hands. He stubbornly tried to get it out of his head and after a long while of thinking to not think about it, he finally managed to do so as his stomach reminded him that he had serious business to attend to and get a sandwich.

Clarence's dad was just that clueless that he didn't think much of (or perhaps didn't even notice) that Kendall was feeling severely lightheaded. She knew that it had to do with the fact that she'd been jumping around in the weirdest kind of ballet to have ever been conceived. It didn't help that Clarence had a really strong grip, she thought as she became aware of all the places he'd pressed his fingers on. And she'd stretched her muscles like never before, giving her all and then some. It had been quite a while since she'd done this much ballet; not to mention all the flips and twists being something altogether new (and exhilarating) but hard, they were so unfamiliar to her own usual dance routine. And now, all alone in the comfort of a cushioned seat, she became aware of how much _trust_ she had to put in Clarence to be able to do this much. She clutched her sides in embarrassment but then steeled herself with the knowledge that it was all for the greater good.

_I can't fail_.

He was quite like her, she discovered. At first, he had had an unconscious tendency to dominate and try to lead her movements. Despite the fact that it would've seemed, to the majority of the population (no matter what gender) like the obvious thing to do, she quickly discovered that she didn't like the feeling. She didn't want to give in, let herself be lead on and have no say in it; it made her feel oddly vulnerable. She resorted to practically wrestling Clarence for leadership. Naturally, at first they bumped heads with each other like two stubborn rams. But she was surprised when, at some point, grimacing, he backed off. He _backed off_. And let her do her own thing the way she wanted before suddenly taking lead again. And she didn't realize until now, but he had found the way to make them work properly. She was now aware that, if he had tried to use words back then, it would've ended most likely with them biting each other's heads off.

_Huh, so he does have some tact…_

_And then_ she also realized -jolting in her seat- that the entire time they had rehearsed, he had given her a dose of his own power, his strength; willingly giving his all into their teamwork and giving her some too so she could keep up. Sure, she had the stubbornness but Kendall wasn't sure she had ever been so pumped up and fiery for the sake of a competition before. It wasn't some energy-flow transfer mumbo-jumbo; it was _psychological_ and it worked. And suddenly, sinking in her seat in exhaustion and something else, her lightheaded-ness was coupled with blood rushing to her head at dizzying speed as she lingered on the thought of Kick Buttowski with something less resembling irritation.

It was a good thing that they had some time to rest and recover their stamina after practice. Not to mention get into a more reasonable state of mind, seeing how awkward it felt afterwards for both of them, even in the mere presence of their own thoughts, not to mention each other (when they weren't engrossed in their routine).

They had worked so hard they even forgot who it was they were holding onto now. There was no more name coming to mind, only the familiar feel of a slender frame in his hands. There was nothing else in the world beside the steady grip holding her, like an anchor keeping her from flying too high and dissolve into weightless stardust. And the grip and touch of each other became reassuring for both of them during their dance; but once they got their bearings and remembered the feeling afterwards, it was too much from the heart and less of a thought to make it seem any less than insane.

Maybe, Kick reasoned to himself, this irrationality that came when performing was the price to pay for a truly _awelegant (elesome?)_ dance…His resolve steeled itself at that; like a stamp of hot wax sealing away the words in a letter, his doubts now tucked away in an envelope along with the words " _So be it._ "

\- "Whatever happens out there…" Kick felt like something had to be said before they started. "I want you to know I… " It wouldn't be a good thing to change the way things have always been, despite their current collaboration "… I-ah... I _really_ don't like you." They had to stay focused; otherwise they'd both lose their wits along with their mutual self-proclaimed dislike towards each other. And he didn't know if he wanted to know what would happen then. Besides losing their focus at the worst time possible…

\- "The feeling is mutual!" Kendall narrowed her eyes at him but he couldn't tell if she had read what he was trying to say between the lines. Although it didn't really matter, they had a competition to win and they had all the right cards to begin.

_\- "…Then let's win this thing."_


End file.
